Kookookachoo, Ms Whisp
by thoth-anubis
Summary: Oneshot based on Naked Genius an unusual romance


**Koo-koo-ka-choo, Ms. Whisp**

**Disclaimer:** Disney owns the characters and situations from Disney's Kim Possible that this was derived from, and I seek no profit in using them solely for my own (and others') entertainment. This story is largely centered around the episode "Naked Genius," and alludes to characters and situations arising from that work.

**Summary:** One-shot based on "Naked Genius" - an unusual romance.

**Pairing:** Ron-Other Female

**Warning:** It's rated M for a reason - not that anything really happens on camera, but it's still mature themes and situations, so I'm being cautious.

**Thanks:** Thanks go to my pre-readers Edward E Butler III and shkspr 1048. I don't usually work with prereaders because of my idiosyncratic writing style, but given the higher rating level on this one I thought it wise to maintain a sanity check to stay on ff (dot) net's straight and narrow once I had this written. Thank you both!

**Author's Notes:** Anyone who's read my author profile knows I'm all for the unusual pairings (and kudos to GargoyleSama for carrying on the tradition), but most of those that I've written are from the Xena & Hercules continuum. In the KP universe, the majority of the pairings in fanfic (canonical and otherwise) involve the same half-dozen people (barring new characters and self-insertions), and while I've got a lot of stories in progress, most of them fall into this same general pattern. This, on the other hand, doesn't - well, not entirely anyway. This one's kind of unusual in a number of respects, but I couldn't get it out of my mind without putting it to virtual paper. I'm interested in hearing what folks think about it. Read and review, and tell me all about it...

**Side note:** The names have been changed to reflect an incident, and the title is an allusion to a song which is from a related movie - and I own none of them, either.

**Part 1**

_**Author's Note:** This takes place midway through the third section of "Naked Genius" - the exact timing should become clear as events progress._

Ron Stoppable leaned back against the cracked and faded vinyl of his car seat and tried to relax. But despite a level of exhaustion that left his vision blurred around the edges and feeling nearly as tired and stressed as poor Rufus (his naked mole rat having crawled into his pocket immediately after the ribbon-cutting ceremony for "his" cold fusion power plant, exhausted by the number of diagrams and equations he'd had to draw, coming as it did hard on the heels of designing a new international space station), he still felt jittery and nervous.

His state wasn't caused by yet another end of the world scenario, nor the arrival of another villainous mastermind planning to take over the world. It was the woman sitting beside him in the driver seat, gushing proudly as she drove away from the bright white concrete dome surrounding the reactor vessel of the power plant. It was his math teacher, the woman who had been by his side nearly constantly for over a week: Ms. Whisp.

"... and I'm so pleased that everything's gone so well. Your gift is both amazing and profound and... "

Ron closed his eyes and tuned out the constant flow of praise. _"This is going to end badly, I just know it."_

Despite the ever increasing sense of foreboding, and the eventual doom he could see looming ever larger, Ron couldn't see a way out of his predicament. _"I just wanted to skip some math homework! How did things get so complicated?"_

Suddenly, a bit of Ms. Whisp's commentary caught his attention, and his eyes snapped open. "What was that, Ms. Whisp?"

"I said," his teacher began, glancing briefly over to her prized pupil before returning her gaze to the highway, "that I think you'll enjoy our next stop."

Ron couldn't suppress the groan that rose in the back of his throat. "Another one?" A hint of a whine entered his voice, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he insisted, "C'mon, Ms. Whisp. Have a heart. I just want to go to bed."

To his surprise, his teacher simply giggled - _giggled!_ - before saying only, "Trust me. You'll love SPOGG. I'm a founding member."

Silently, Ron sighed at the thought of yet another acronym that he'd be expected to remember and parrot back on command. _"Great... I try to avoid schoolwork, and now stuff I don't even need to know is sinking in. My brain hurts."_

Closing his eyes again, Ron tried to relax. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice - a sensation he was very familiar with - and his pants were about to fall around his ankles - which was another sensation he was very familiar with.

_"I hope you're up to it, Rufus."_ The silence and stillness coming from within his pocket reassured him very little.

xxxXXXxxx

Ron must have dozed off, because he awoke with a jerk as the car rounded a corner. "Huh? Whazzuh?" he blurted out, quickly turning his head back and forth as he tried to regain his bearings.

"Calm down, Ronald. Everything's fine."

The female voice - that wasn't KP's - only vaguely reassured him. And then he recognized the voice, and his eyes widened. "Ms. Whisp?" he blurted out as his mind raced, trying to guess what he'd missed. _"Asleep in class again - I'm so busted."_

A light chuckle washed across his frayed nerves. "Oh, Ronald. You can be so silly at times. It's a testament of your true genius."

_"Oh, yeah."_ Ron settled back in his seat, both soothed and unsettled at the same time.

The clicking of a turn signal caught Ron's attention, and as he glanced around curiously he realized they were on a residential street. The homes they were passing were smaller than those in either his own or KP's neighborhood, and looked subtly older.

Ms. Whisp turned into a driveway leading to a small - even by this neighborhood's standards - white house with dark green shutters. "Ms. Whisp?" he asked curiously.

After parking the car, Ms. Whisp turned off the ignition. "This is my home, Ronald. We have time for a short break. Don't worry; you're signed out through the end of school, and are excused from after school activities for the day."

"Um, OK," Ron agreed in confusion as he joined her in climbing out of the car. He watched her unlock the house's front door, then obediently stepped through after she pushed it open and held the screen door open in invitation.

Ron froze just beyond the doorway, standing on a small carpet remnant resting on a linoleum covered landing. He eyed the twin stairways - one leading up, one leading down - that led further into the split-level home uncertainly.

"Just kick your shoes off," Ms. Whisp told him as she pulled the door shut. As she edged around him on the landing, she did as she had instructed him, and Ron quickly did the same, shedding his boots.

His teacher started climbing the carpeted flight of steps leading up from the entryway, and instructed, "Come along, Ronald, no need to be shy."

Hesitantly, Ron obeyed, following her up the steps, his eyes level with her heels. The seam in the dark brown hose she wore caught his eye as her foot flexed, and he quickly dropped his gaze down to the dull beige carpet.

"Make yourself at home," she ordered. Waving one arm negligently, she gestured towards an off-white, floral patterned couch positioned near the front of the house. "Can I get you something to drink?"

Ron collapsed onto the couch, confused, but obedient. "Can I have a soda?"

His teacher smiled. "Of course. Is diet okay?"

Shrugging, Ron agreed. "Sure. I don't usually drink it, but it's okay."

"Alright," she began, then smiled reassuringly, "Relax. You look tense. Teachers are human too, you know."

Ron watched her retreat through an arched opening in the far wall, the light blue of her sweater vest and skirt making a pleasant contrast beside the smooth almost-white of the walls. He listened to her movements; her stockinged feet first crinkling on the light pile of the carpeting, then slapping gently on what sounded like more linoleum. The soft crump of a refrigerator opening was soon followed by the sound of a cabinet door, and what had to be a freezer.

Feeling too nervous to remain still, Ron rose to his feet, and looked around. The room was sparsely decorated, with a few knickknacks on the endtables, some magazines (some of which he recognized as being the same that Mrs. Dr. Possible subscribed to) were arrayed on a coffee table, and of course, the TV - an older style console unit with a VCR and cable box on top. He was unsurprised, but a little disappointed, to see that she didn't have any game systems hooked to it.

_"It looks... nice._" Kind of like his own living room, he couldn't help but notice.

A large picture hanging on the wall caught his eye. He walked closer to it, and was surprised to see what looked like a younger version of his teacher surrounded by four children - two boys and two girls - all with an obvious family resemblance to one another. "I like your place, Ms. Whisp. Is this you in the picture?"

From somewhere out of sight, a chuckle momentarily muted the hiss of foaming soda and crackling ice. "No, that's my sister Mindy. Don't my nieces and nephews look great? I don't get to see them nearly as often as I'd like; they live a few hours north of Upperton in Marengo."

"That's nice. My family isn't all that close, and my cousin..." Ron fell silent, shuddering at the memory of his evil cousin Shawn.

"That's too bad, Ronald. Family is important," Ms. Whisp told him as she handed him a glass filled with ice and foaming dark brown cola.

"Thanks," Ron took the glass and took a sip, then winced. "Ew. This tastes funny."

She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, it's all I have."

"It's okay," Ron essayed a larger drink. "I'm just not used to the diet stuff, I guess."

"Try not to spill please, the fabrics in here aren't very stain resistant."

Ron shivered uncertainly. _"No pressure."_ "I'll try." He resolved to drink quickly to avoid tempting fate - one looming disaster was more than enough.

"I'll just be a moment," she called over her shoulder as she retreated down a hallway.

Ron gulped down his soda in a single heroic draught, the ice cubes chill as they bumped against his upper lip. He was about to set his glass aside when he noticed the condensation bedewing the glass and reconsidered the move. _"Rings."_

He hesitantly crept through the same archway his teacher had passed through when getting the glass, and was relieved to find the kitchen. He was about to put his glass in the sink, but a moment's reflection sent him to the fridge instead.

He collected a 2-liter bottle from inside the door, and poured himself a refill. He rested his glass on the counter beside a square-shaped bottle with a transparent amber fluid inside, then returned the soda bottle to the refrigerator.

Taking a sip from his refilled glass, Ron sighed. _"I guess I must be getting used to it. This doesn't taste as funny as the first one."_ He drained his glass again, then carefully placed his empty on the bare stainless steel of the sink.

"Ronald?"

Ms. Whisp's call from down the hall froze Ron in place. "Yes, Ms. Whisp?" he called back. _"Was I not supposed to get a refill?"_ he wondered briefly.

"Could you come down here please? I need you for something."

"Coming!" he called in reply. He hurried down the hall, his socked feet sinking into the plush of the carpet.

"Ms. Whisp?" Ron hesitantly asked as he passed through an open doorway and entered an empty bedroom. "Hello?" Ron glanced around, but couldn't see his teacher anywhere in the room.

Ron's eyes narrowed in confusion as he glanced around. A king sized bed filled most of the room, with a pair of endtables flanking the headboard. Pillar candles burned atop both tables, and the scent of vanilla wafted through the air. "Ms. Whisp?" he asked again, stepping further into the room.

Behind him, the door swung shut. Ron spun in place, unconsciously falling into a Tai Shing Pek Kwar stance before slumping in relief. "Sorry about that. You startled me, Ms. Whisp."

"Call me Mary," she replied with a smile.

Ron blinked, then his eyes widened. Ron's mind went completely blank as he discovered that his teacher had changed clothes.

Instead of the sweater vest, simple blouse, and long skirt she had been wearing, she was sheathed in a silky crimson negligee that ended in a lacy hem just above the knees, surmounted by a gauzy transparent wrap that enveloped her like a bathrobe, yet hid nothing. The fabric of the wrap was so fine that it floated around her like an aurora, doing nothing to conceal, merely tinting all the skin it revealed in a pale red hue that complimented the silken undergarment it overlay.

She stepped forward a pace, moving near enough that Ron could feel the warmth of her body against his. Sheathed in silk, her chest was as bountiful as it was beautiful, and his skin flushed as his eyes followed the movements that her every breath inspired.

"You have a gift, Ronald," she told him seriously, even as she smiled coquettishly. "One you must share with the world."

"What are you doing?" Ron gasped, backing away from her, only to abruptly sit as his knees met the edge of the bed and buckled, dropping him onto the mattress. Her bosom was even more impressive when seen from below, and Ron's breathing deepened even as his eyes flickered about, seeking a safe place for his gaze to linger. "We can't do this," he protested, even as his mind shrank from all the possibilities of what "this" might be.

"You're a brave hero," Ms. Whisp continued, stepping forward and leaning down to bracket him between her arms, trailing the delicate fabric of her wrap across his bare forearm, "but you face danger so often; it would truly be a crime against humanity for your gift to be entirely lost should something unfortunate happen."

Ron's lungs heaved like a bellows, and he drank in her soft musk along with the fragrance of the candles. Though his mind was confused, his body held no doubts. It began to stir, stiffening against his thigh.

Her lips descended, and met his. At first, the touch was tentative, delicate, but it quickly became firmer, more demanding, and Ron couldn't help but respond.

xxxXxXxxx

Ron had never given much thought to what his "type" of woman was in a purely physical sense - though Animology told him what she would be like in other respects. What constituted beauty wasn't a universal constant, and he'd been all over the world, and seen many definitions.

Had he been asked, his thoughts would probably have turned, naturally, first to his best friend Kim - or possibly her mother - since they constituted the majority of the sphere of his female experience. Next, it might turn to one of the Middleton High cheerleaders, or possibly Zita or Monique.

By choice or chance, the girls and women he associated with tended to be universally lean, with a level of fitness somewhat above the norm. Even his mother fit this general mold, though her build was closer to being thin, or even ascetic.

But despite the shifting standards of beauty across the face of the globe, some things _are_ universal. Since the dawn of time, artisans from the plains of Africa to the hills of Asia to cave complexes in France had embraced one of those universal truths when attempting to embody the essential "woman" or portray the "mother goddess" - creating an idealized figure who's fertility and fecundity was both obvious and potent, and tapped into the deepest levels of nature's genetic programming.

xxxXxXxxx

As his teacher leaned against him, with her lips tasting his, her skin soft and warm beneath the smooth slickness of silk, her embrace called out to instincts and desires both primitive and powerful. Reason warred with instinct, logic battled with burgeoning desire, and his conscience wrestled with his hormones until he somehow managed to ask, "What about those SPOCK people?"

She chuckled as she nibbled on his earlobe, pressing his cheek against her heart. "Founding member," she reminded him.

"You don't understand. I'm not..." Ron began.

Her hands found his belt buckle, and his protests evaporated like mist beneath the noonday sun. With her insistent assistance, he swiftly set his cargo pants aside - carefully, so as not to disturb his slumbering naked mole rat within, and Ron was soon taught a great many things not included in the official curriculum.

xxxXXXxxx

Ron had passed the health classes. He'd seen the filmstrips - even if they were vintage 1950's era. He knew the general mechanics of what was at its most basic, a simple physical act. And what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with enthusiasm and energy.

Best of all, he now had a tutor willing to help him apply his theoretical knowledge to practical usage. The hands-on training swiftly broke down both his initial reluctance and self-consciousness, and he gladly yielded to the twin goads of instinct and desire, sinking gratefully into her welcoming embrace, joining with her in a communion as old as mankind.

xxxXXXxxx

Eventually, Ron sat on the edge of his teacher's bed, filled with a languorous exhaustion, yet simultaneously feeling gloriously alive and awake. He smiled down at Ms. Whisp - even now, he had a hard time thinking of her as "Mary" - as she lay beneath her sheets, her skin flushed, her soft brown bangs glued by drying sweat to her forehead, and with the broad expanse of her chest mottled with exertion. _"I never knew she could look so beautiful."_

But as he gazed down on the gently smiling face of the woman who had, in this past week, so bedeviled him, before suddenly raising him to heights of unprecedented heavenly glory, his satisfaction and joy began to steadily seep away, leaving him feeling increasingly ashamed. _"It's all been a lie. Everything. She's going to hate me."_

He tried to divert himself by looking around the bedroom, his gaze taking in the simple, uncluttered furnishings, the style so different from either of the women's he knew (his mother and Mrs. Dr. Possible). It was also as far from Kim's room, with its odd mix of scattered bits of high-tech gadgets, overlaying the base layer of girlish pink and plush that she'd favored for as long as he could remember, as it was possible to be. He found it greatly appealing... _"I could live in this room."_ And that thought only made him feel worse. _"She's **really** going to hate me."_

_"I know what I have to do."_ It would kill him to do it - and hurt her, terribly, besides - but coming clean was the only course he could envision that wouldn't make the inevitable crash as the teetering house of cards that was his framework of lies came down around him even worse.

His heart heavy and breaking in his chest, he lay down beside his lover - and how strange a feeling that descriptive evoked in his breast, joyful and painful at once - and rested his head on the warm cushion of her shoulder. Despite the situation, he still felt a visceral comfort as she made a sleepy, happy little noise in her throat and opened her eyes.

Her eyes were beautiful, warm and brown, darker even than his, but they lit up to see him nestled beside her. Without the filtering obstruction of her glasses, her eyes glittered with life and emotion as she rubbed his bare back gently with one hand, tracing down the curve of his spine before flowing across his hip and coming to rest on the covers behind him, her knuckles just barely grazing the skin of his backside. "Hi," she breathed.

"Ms. Whisp," Ron began, his voice crackling with the intensity of his emotions.

"Under the circumstances," she drowsily told him as she leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead, "you can call me Mary."

"This is going to kill me to say it, because I think I love you, but..."

Before he could continue, she reached over and stilled his lips with a finger. "Oh, Ronald. You don't love me any more than I love you. You're so young... so young..." she trailed off, her eyelids drooping.

Ron pulled back, then deliberately scooted further away from her. He sat on the edge of the bed, turning his back on her so he wouldn't have to see the look in her eyes when he told her the truth, crushing his burgeoning dreams. "I know what I feel, and it's killing me because I have to tell you something, and I know you'll hate me for it, even though I hope you won't."

When she didn't protest, he cautiously continued, trying to shape his words and phrasing to minimize the pain what he had to say would inflict. "I... I'm a fake. I'm not a genius. And even if I was, it would have been a fluke - an artificial thing caused by the Phoebus project. I'm not a gift to the world, or a prodigy or any of those other things you've been calling me. I just lied to get out of doing homework, and things spiraled out of control. I... I tried to tell you before we... we... but I just got so excited, and... and... you were so... so... Do you hate me?" he asked, his voice breaking as a tear trickled down his cheek.

A sound somewhere between a breathy exhalation and a snort was his only response. "Ms. Whisp?" Ron asked again, turning in his seat.

With a gentle smile glowing on her face, Ms. Whisp was fast asleep. Ron sighed. _"My big confession... ruined."_

Ron pulled the covers up and over her, then tucked them securely around her body, hiding her lush form beneath the blanket as thoroughly as her usual wardrobe did. His slumbering teacher sighed happily at his gentle care, sinking deeper into her slumber without waking.

_"She looks... happy."_ Ron leaned over and gently kissed her on the lips, feeling oddly protective of the sleeping older woman. _"I'll... tell her tomorrow,"_ he promised himself silently, unwilling to wipe away that sweet smile with the poisonous truth that festered in his throat.

Rising from the bed, he collected his discarded clothing. He had to search a bit to find his boxer shorts; somehow they had ended up tucked between the mattress and box springs, with only a bit of the elastic showing. At length, with one arm burdened with the bundle of his clothes, he carefully closed the door to his teacher's bedroom behind him.

After dressing quickly, he slipped his feet into his boots and left, locking the door behind him. Burdened by his thoughts and his conscience, he began the long trek home, a thundercloud nestled above his brow.

**Part 2**

_**Author's Note:** This part is set shortly before the end of "Naked Genius," after school, but before the denouement at Kim's house._

Ron knocked carefully on the classroom door, his heart pounding in his chest. "Ms. Whisp?" he tentatively called through the closed door.

"Come in, Ronald."

Wincing, Ron entered, feeling more frightened than he had been while gazing down into the piranha filled acid bath in Drakken's lair. His teacher's tone was neutral - revealing nothing of the thoughts and feelings that lay hidden behind the shield of her glasses. "I'm back."

"Have a seat, Ronald," she instructed him, her voice neutral.

Ron nervously did so, sitting in the front row for possibly the first time in his life, directly in front of the teacher's desk. His heart ached at the profoundness of his betrayal, and the righteous flensing that he knew was coming. _"She's going to kill me... then KP will kill me... Mom will kill me... Mr. Barkin will chop up what's left, and the lunch lady will serve it as meatloaf... without ketchup."_ Honesty made him add, _"And I deserve it all."_

"I'm sorry, Ronald."

Blinking, Ron stared at his teacher. "What?" _"Huh?"_

"I'm sorry, Ronald," she repeated.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ron insisted. "I'm... scum. I'm worse than scum. I'm the ooze from beneath a mutant's foot in a toxic grotto at Camp Wannaweep. I'm..."

"Ronald!" Ms. Whisp barked, cutting him off.

Quickly, Ron fell silent, though it remained a struggle to hold in the protests and grim comparisons that continued to scroll across his thoughts.

"You did a bad thing. You lied. Then, you compounded the lie by lying to cover up your lie."

Ron quickly nodded his agreement.

"But I handled things terribly, too. I should have known something was wrong. You can't lie to save your life; I should have realized what was going on when you refused to say outright that you were a genius, but kept coming up with weird turns of phrase that _implied_ you were, without outright saying it, but I didn't...

She sighed, then continued, "I ignored everything that should have told me what the truth was, blinded by your glorious 'gift,' too busy basking in the reflected glory to see what was happening."

"I could have come clean at any time," Ron pointed out. "I didn't have to keep lying."

"I didn't give you time to think things through," she retorted. "It was just one press conference, after symposium, after grand opening, after another..."

"I shouldn't have lied," Ron grimaced with finality, trying to cut off the entire line of discussion.

"True, but nothing you did was unforgivable. On the other hand, by all rights, I should be turning myself in at the police station, after tendering my resignation."

"What?" Ron shot to his feet. "No!"

"You're a child, Ronald. One of my charges. What I did..."

"I'm not a child!" Ron insisted, his eyes burning with the force of his conviction, and Ms. Whisp actually chuckled at the expression on his face.

"Ronald, Ronald, Ronald. Compared to me, you are. I should have known better - I _did_ know better. But I did it anyway."

"But... I love you," Ron barely breathed, his eyes sliding away from hers.

"Oh, Ronald. You're a sweet boy, but you're just a boy - you don't really know what love is. And I'm just a foolish woman who tried to steal something that I had no right to take."

"You didn't steal anything!" Ron insisted.

"One of these days, Ronald, some lucky girl will recognize what a special boy you are. Even if you're not the world-changing genius I imagined I saw, you still have a world of potential, and..."

"Potential boy. That's me," Ron acknowledged bitterly.

"... someday you'll find the girl who's right for you," she finished. "But that girl isn't me," she repeated firmly, and with inescapable finality.

"But..." Ron began.

Ms. Whisp interrupted him before he could focus his thoughts. "No. I know this is unfair to ask of you, but I must if I'm to continue either working as an educator, or preserve a shred of my self-respect. Ronald, if you truly harbor any feelings for me, you'll let this - let _me_ - go."

Ron's heart sank, but he couldn't muster any real argument. He knew he didn't deserve her, and even if he didn't agree with her as to _why_ it had to end, he knew in his heart that it was over. He slowly nodded, and a tear leaked from his downcast eyes.

A gentle sweep of her thumb wiped the tear away. "If you need to transfer out of my class, I'll understand. After the way I've been carrying on lately, no one will question it. Or, I can submit my resignation and try to find a job in another district. I don't want to hurt you any more than I have already."

"No, don't do that. I don't want to hurt you, either. I can handle it," Ron mumbled, making an effort to smile, but failing miserably. "Do you think... one day... We could...?"

"Maybe one day," she answered. Despite her response, his heart sank; her tone was identical to the one Kim used when she was trying not to hurt his feelings. He still gave her credit for the effort, even though it had quashed his last faint hope.

"So we've both been bad," Ron finally noted, trying to interject some levity into his dark mood. "And I was kidnapped and forced to build a death machine by a mad scientist because of it. Does that mean I don't have to serve detention?"

Chuckling, Ms. Whisp handed him the form she'd already filled out. "This sideways 8 thing means infinity right?" he asked, pointing to a spot on the form.

She was still nodding when Ron leaned down and kissed her. It was sweet, and gentle, and loving, and filled with all the confusing but powerful emotions that filled him. The older woman couldn't help but respond, but when he finally pulled away, tracing his lips with his tongue to recapture the flavor of hers', her expression was both resolute and unswayed by the moment of forbidden passion.

"I do love you, you know," Ron told her, before slowly walking out of the classroom, steeling himself to face the future without her.

"I know," she whispered to the silent classroom as the door closed with a click. "I know."

Epilogue 1 : Ron

"Watch where you're going, froob!" Bonnie barked as she staggered away from the boy who had run into her.

"Sorry, Bon-bon," Ron mumbled, not really paying attention, he glanced briefly over his shoulder at her, then continued on his way.

Bonnie froze as she stared after Ron's retreating form. Her shock was so profound, she nearly dropped the books she carried.

It didn't matter that he went off with Kim Possible to save the world every week; in Bonnie's mind, Ron was a child. He was the kind of guy who, after walking into the women's restroom by mistake, would simply say "Hi, Bonnie." The kind of guy who could watch cheerleaders practice every day, while offering helpful tips on stance or pose without thought or regard to the scanty and flattering outfits. Simply put, he wasn't a man - with a man's perspectives, thoughts, and _desires_. He was safe - neutered, asexual - and Bonnie figured Kim liked (and probably ensured she kept, consciously or not) him that way. It was one of the reasons the squad granted him the kind of access they did - he was just... Ron.

Brick Flagg, unlike Ron, was a man. The play of muscles beneath his glistening skin, the way he looked at her in the heat of passion... It didn't matter that he wasn't a genius; he was manly - without even having to think about it - and it made her feel gooey inside, every time. No matter how many times they fought and reconciled, she felt the pull of his primal _male-ness_, the barely leashed potential lurking inside, all that strength and violence, waiting on her every whim... it was intoxicating.

But Brick - no matter how he glistened - wasn't on Bonnie's mind as she watched the boy walk away. It had been Ron who had knocked Bonnie off kilter, and who was now making her eye him in surprise.

Just for a moment, when Ron had turned to look over his shoulder to apologize, there had been an unfamiliar look in his eyes. _"Or rather, familiar from Brick. It almost looked like Ron was undressing me with his eyes."_

She watched Ron saunter dispiritedly away until he finally rounded a corner, her eyes following him carefully, watching for the faintest recurrence or any similar symptoms - but without success. He was the same as always, a child, for all that he was physically growing into manhood.

_"Stoppable turning into a man?"_ Bonnie eventually snorted, turning away from the empty corridor. _"Never going to happen. I must be going blind."_

She put the incident from her mind and continued on her way, dismissing Ron entirely from her thoughts.

Epilogue 2 - Ms. Whisp

For a time, Ms. Whisp simply sat in her silent classroom, content to be alone with her thoughts. "It's for the best," she eventually said aloud, her quiet voice seeming to echo in the empty room.

Ron was a sweet child, friendly, eager to please, and more energetic than her last dozen lovers combined. But he was still very much a child, for all his physical development and the things he had accomplished while acting as Kim's sidekick.

She was a little embarrassed by how she had reacted to him, both her body and her emotions, but she couldn't quite bring herself to feel ashamed. Even now, her skin sang from the memory of his touch, and her lips tingled from his kiss.

Giving Ronald up was probably the hardest thing she'd ever had to do - but she knew it was the right decision. "He's not for me," she reminded herself, her words echoing hollowly in the room. "One of these days Kim will realize what she's been missing, or he'll take notice of one of the other girls his own age... And it's for the best."

Flushed with sated passion, with Ron lying by her side, she had almost been able to believe that throwing away her career - and probably some jail time - would still be worth it, and that together, despite all the obstacles, together they could make a life... But only almost. It had been a pleasant fantasy while it lasted: a world-changing genius, an energetic, virile young lover, a true hero in the real sense of the word, not just someone labelled as such thanks to the modern penchant for superlatives... All this... and completely devoted... _"And he was **mine**."_

Could it happen again? Would she ever seduce another student? She'd asked herself that a hundred times or more once the truth of Ron's "genius" had been revealed. More than once she'd seriously contemplated laying the whole sordid incident in front of Mr. Barkin - facing the consequences, removing herself from temptation and locking away any potential risk to the students. But despite the moments of crushing guilt and self-flagellation that she'd endured as she scrutinized every thought, every act, every decision she'd made since Ron had stood at the chalkboard and appeared to solve that impossible equation, eventually she had been forced to concede that she'd fallen for Ronald _despite_ his age, not because of it.

_"It was such a good dream,"_ she mused, remembering the heady dreams of a halcyon future with Ronald that had so inflamed her, _"but in the end, it was still only a dream."_ The love affair, for all its intensity, passion, and allure, had been as transitory and insubstantial as moonbeams and pixie dust, even if it had glittered just as prettily.

_"Still,"_ she mused, softly tracing small circles on her stomach through the thin fabric of her blouse, even if he never knows it (and she knew that she could never, **ever** tell him the whole truth) in their one day together, sharing that beautiful dream, he'd still managed to give her what she'd wanted and needed. _"At least I brought a souvenir back with me from Neverland."_

**The End**

**End Notes:** Kudos to you if you caught all the allusions and references - and no, the last line is about Barrie's Peter Pan, with nothing at all to do with anyone currently living in California.

I tried to keep this as close to canon as possible - and I think it's a lot closer than many of the setups for even the more usual pairings. Even if you don't accept the scenario as likely, you have to agree that Ms. Whisp was just a bit overly touchy and clingy to Ron in "Naked Genius" - and that was the seed for this story.

Bonnie on the other hand? Maybe having her be so thoroughly in touch with her inner cave girl _is_ a bit of a stretch, but even that is rooted in the show. Oh, and in case you are wondering? SPOGG is the Society for the Proliferation of the Genetics of Geniuses - which to the best of my knowledge does not actually exist.

Tell me what you think...

R&R!


End file.
